


Lost Cigarettes

by thatdragonchic



Series: Sometimes He was Quiet [1]
Category: Eyewitness (US TV)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, Implied Sexual Content, Implied/Referenced Underage Sex, Lukas is observing Philip, M/M, Past Child Abuse, Philip confides in Lukas, lukas trying to comfort philip, mentions of philips mom, philip did some things to protect his mom tbh, philips past
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-10
Updated: 2016-11-10
Packaged: 2018-08-30 05:34:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,374
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8520427
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thatdragonchic/pseuds/thatdragonchic
Summary: "I have a bad rep with Eighty-Two's." "Choke on one?""I lost a box once." "And now you're mortally wounded?""Yeah I got beat for it."





	

**Author's Note:**

> The fandom needed more of these two's and honestly I'm not sure if I like this a lot??? But my best friend was like "post the fic- POST THE FIC" so here we are, posting the fic. I hope you enjoy! This is going to be part of a series, because yeah I'm like "This sucks" but I'm trash most of the time so there's going to be more of this probably. Hope you like it! Enjoy!

Lukas saw it even before the whole murder debacle had taken place in the cabin. It was the way that Philip's eyes would glaze over sometimes and he would stare at nothing, and once presented with reality, he would flinch. He would turn away. But his voice was always so neutral and cool, there wasn’t a hint of pain there, even when his body backed off- preparing for the hit that might come to him. Lukas noticed it when he backed him against the barn wall for a kiss, how terrified Philips eyes suddenly became when he thought he might get hit- and Lukas wasn’t about to shoot the wounded bird, so he kissed Philip because he couldn’t watch him hurt anymore.

That didn’t change much. Nothing ever really did. Even now, as they sit in the field with whiskey, hoping they don’t get caught again, Philip stares at the cigarette packet with a sort of emptiness in his eyes. Though he was primarily quiet- Philip never really was quiet. He was always there, in this ever present sort of way, even when there was nothing to say, he found other ways to say what needed to be said- just the way that his nature presented it. But now he was quiet, there was no nature to it, no vibe, no words. He just stared at the cigarettes like they might say something first.

  
  


Aaron was the kind of guy to smoke five packs a day. He wreaked like the tough tobacco scent of Marlboro Eighty-two’s in the flip top hard packs. The ass was more in it for him than his mother- he would make the deals, only if Philip was somehow involved. Philip never was one for drugs, but he would kneel to a man’s knees if he knew it made his mom happy or if it would get him money. But that’s as far as it ever went. He could never take it that step further.

He never loved anyone. Aaron was a trade-job deal, and he was the only one he knew by name. His name was plastered on everything he did, made Philip memorize his name forward and back, recognize his voice from miles away. Sometimes he would get him and his mother full course meals- containers full of take out or bags of McDonalds- if he would run errands for him. Luckily the man at the convenience store on the corner of Fourth and Fifth would take pity on him, and would hand him the cigarettes as long as it meant he had the money for him. He only ever had tattered clothes, he rarely ever was able to shower- water was so scarce here. And if they couldn’t pay the bills, they couldn’t have the water. 

Aaron helped liked that sometimes and Philip never really knew why. Maybe Aaron had loved him, or maybe he had loved his mom. Maybe he just loved the way that Philip could suck his dick, even if Philip did it for countless others just to collect some change. 

Five times a day, Marlboro Eighty-Two’s. The red and white box, with “Eighty-Two” written up in bold white font up the side. It was the one time that Philip lost the pack on his way home that Aaron had hit him. This was before Billy and his OD on the yellow couch- and while it had really happened, Philip might have tweaked some of the details to save his own ass. But Aaron was the first. It was a sharp slap across the face and when his 14-year-old self tumbled down, it was a pure kick to the stomach. He remembered puking on the floor when it happened. 

His mother, the dear that she was, ran to interfere and was shoved aside. All for the five pack a day, turned four. He promised he would never do it again but Aaron got tougher on them. It was no longer bags of food at the end of a long day, or sex to trade for his moms drugs. It was five packs and cold pizza from the ratty place down the streets. It was cups of cheap coffee from the convenience store. And sometimes if he was lucky, Aaron would give him extra cash for some groceries, so that food might last a little longer than the money. 

 

“Philip- hey are you okay?”

Philip looks up, eyes clearing from their haze. Blinking rapidly only for tears to fall. “Yeah I was just… I was just thinking,” he mumbles, wiping the tears from his eyes. 

“You’re crying-”

“I’m fine. Like I said, I was just thinking.”

“Sure you were, and I was just kidding when I said I liked you.”

Philip gives him that sharp look, where his jaw sort of clenched and his eyes glared with streat laser beams- it was the deadly sort of look that Lukas wasn’t afraid of. What was Philip going to do? What did Philip ever do? He always forgave him in the end.

“I’m fine,” Philip decides. “It’s nothing.”

“Was it the murders?”

“Will you stop asking if I say yes?”

“No, because now i know you’re lying.”

Philip sort of pouts (but Philip is always pouting, it’s just a little exaggerated now), and he turns away, hugging his knees. “Maybe I am. I’m a good liar.”

“You’re easy to read.”

Philip looks over and Lukas smiles, he leans forward to press a kiss to his lips, soft and loving, a slow peck that lasts only a mere second. Philip leans in for more, and Lukas leans back. 

“I’m not that easy to read. If I was, then Helen would know we know by now.”

“Well I can read you pretty easy.”

“I trust you. I don’t trust many people. I guess that’s just a bad habit of mine…”

“I trust you to you know.”

Philip smiles, hiding his face in his arms, cheek pressed to his forearm, nose pressed to his knee. Lukas nudges the bottle of whiskey at him and philip glances up from his little hiding spot (Even if he was hiding in his own knees and anybody who came around could have seen him, hiding was hiding. Hiding was comfortable.) 

“I’ll pass.”

“Cigarette?”

“I have a bad rep with Eighty-Two's.”

“Choke on one?”

“I lost a box once.”

“And now you’re mortally wounded?”

“Yeah. I got beat for it.”

“Oh.” Lukas’ mouth went dry, he wasn’t sure what he was supposed to say here. What he was supposed to tell him. Does he apologize or would that upset Philip? 

“He couldn’t live without his cigarettes, so he would send me to get them and if I ran those errands he would get us food. More food than I’d ever seen before. I remember the first time he did it- he brought us containers of take out, foods never even seen before. It was hot and it was fresh, and I never had that. The closest to a hot meal I’d had was a dollar menu burger from McDonald's and sometimes they’d toss them to me cold, because I was just the poor kid in ragged clothes with the druggy mom. Food was food to me, right? But that was only if I was lucky. Sometimes the bagel shop owners would pity me and give me a few bagels before throwing them out. But… I had never had something like that. A full meal with leftovers and it was all warm. After that though, he stopped. All because I lost the box of freaking Marlboro Eighty-Two’s. As if he didn’t already smoke through four packs or give them away or whatever.” 

“It’s all over now Philip. You don’t have to smoke the eighty-two’s and you’ll never go hungry again- not here anyways.”

Philip nods, turning he kisses Lukas’ cheek, in small pecks, over and over again, in small circles. Lukas is smiling, he could feel it the way his muscles shift under his touch. His hand moves to hold the other side of his face, letting a kissing linger along his cheekbone under his eyes. Sure things used to be bad, but they’re better now. Or at least, that’s what he’s been lead to believe. 


End file.
